A Kind of Awakening
by trdevlin
Summary: Harsh words, black ice, and a chance for Gibbs to make things right. (Rating will change in later chapters.) KIBBS
1. Chapter 1

A/N- I'm going to put a longer one at the end, but for now, let me just say, I know. I'm 15 years too late. LOL! Not sure how often I'll dip my toe into this fandom, but a number of planets aligning brought me to this pairing and I felt really compelled to write this story! Holidays might make the updates sporadic, but it won't get abandoned.

Disclaimer- Boy, if I were going to make any money from this pairing, I wouldn't have waited so long. NCIS characters, of course, belong to CBS.

x...x

The bullpen was silent, not an unusual thing at 3 in the morning, but odd considering there were 4 people present. The case and the hours had sucked the life out of them, and the only one who looked remotely alive was Gibbs who sat hunched over his keyboard, glaring at something on his monitor. It was clearly not giving him the answers he wanted, if his steely blue scowl was anything to go by. Kate looked up from her file, the one of more than 2 dozen that piled on her desk. It took her vision so long to return to normal that she momentarily wondered if it was reversible. A lean back in her chair brought more alarming signals from her body to her brain as joints and muscles cracked and cramped. The squeak of her chair reverberated around the office, though no one took notice. She glanced at her watch.

 _35 hours._

35 hours since they had discovered Lieutenant Bosman and her 5 year old son stuffed in the trunk of a car. 35 hours since the trail had gone cold. 35 hours since Kate could remember sleeping. She lost track of when she last ate, relying on a near-intravenous supply of coffee to keep her going. She shook her head.

 _Enough._

Standing, she drew no one's attention, and it wasn't until she began gathering her things that DiNozzo's head lifted from the file that was currently serving as an elbow rest. Gibbs' voice made McGee blink for the first time in hours.

"Goin' somewhere'?"

"Yeah, Gibbs, I'm going home."

In the three years she had been with NCIS, she had fought and surrendered under Gibbs' authority in equal measure. She'd like to think she had a good feel of when to press and when to retreat, though in this particular situation, she was surprised to find she didn't care, and that his cold tone did little to change her mind. Rather than repeat her words, he raised an eyebrow, and there was a part of her that wondered if he had a quota of words he used in a day.

"Tony's trying to read a file through his eyelids and McGee's so out of it, I bet he can't even remember his name."

"Tonithy!" he blurted out, only to realize his mistake. "I mean, 'Timothy'. It's 'Timothy'."

"Good one, Probie," DiNozzo tutted, throwing a pen at him.

"And you?" Gibbs asked, his question flat and direct.

"I'm going to get my prescription checked, because I'm pretty sure staring at the same words for 35 hours straight is making me go blind." When he didn't reply, she tried a softer tactic. "Gibbs, come on. We're not doing anyone any good working at 10 percent of our ability."

"I'm sure Kyle Bosman would be happy to know you're giving a whole 10 percent to find his killer."

His accusation cut through her softness, and like a switch, she turned herself off. Grabbing her purse and her keys, she reached for her jacket before he pierced her again.

"If you go, don't bother comin' back."

The air left the room. McGee's mouth was agape and Tony's eyes were more alert now than they'd been in the last 12 hours, moving back and forth between Gibbs and Kate. The standoff lasted an eternity, then Kate sat down. Tony let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was short-lived. Instead of sitting with the intent of getting back to work, she sat to reach under her desk for a box. Unceremoniously, she began tossing items into it, and it was when one of those items included a family photo with her siblings that Tony's eyes widened. Oblivious or uncaring of the eyes upon her, Kate stood once again and this time reached for her jacket without interruption. She flipped her hair out from the collar and slung her purse over her shoulder, and without a break in her movements, unclipped her badge from her belt and respectfully placed it on her desk. When she turned off her desk light, it was like a final punctuation on her unspoken decision. It was that last course of action that helped Tony find his voice.

"Kate! C'mon."

His plea reached her at the elevator, but she didn't turn around. He stood up quickly, and before Gibbs could say anything, he chirped, "Be right back, Boss!"

He just made the elevator before the door closed on him.

The first words out of his mouth were, "You know he didn't mean it."

She stared straight ahead, trying not to consider what she had just done. "No, Tony, actually I don't."

"It's just Gibbs," he said. "Case has got him all wound up."

"And it doesn't wind me up, too? Is that what you're saying? Mother and child stuffed into a trunk like… like garbage, and I'm going home because, what? I don't care as much as he does?"

"Whoa, whoa," Tony said, holding up his hands. "Not saying that at all. Just saying, we all have different ways of handling it. Gibbs' way is to find the limit, then bulldoze through it."

"Yeah, and we're caught in the wake." The elevator dinged and she stepped out. "Does he really think he's respecting Kyle Bosman by working so hard that mistakes get made? Does he think he's respecting Kyle Bosman by breaking us in the process? Look, Tony, I would run through a brick wall for you, for Tim. For him." She couldn't find the strength to say Gibbs' name. "But when that brick wall IS him? I'm done."

He stood in the elevator doorway, shellshocked. "You can't mean that, Kate." There was a long pause where the truth lingered between them. Trying to inject some humour into the moment, he weakly smiled, "You'll miss me too much."

It was her first smile in what felt like days. "I will," she agreed. Leaning up, she held his face between her hands and gently kissed his lips. "Tell anyone I did that, and they won't find your body."

His eyes dreamily opened. "Who would believe me?"

Slapping his chest with the back of her hand, she started walking backwards towards her car. "The husband has an aunt he was close to as a kid. Might be something worth checking out."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Tony."

"'Bye, Kate."

x...x

His return to the bullpen was met with silence, though the stares he got from both Gibbs and McGee spoke volumes. Ignoring them both, he began tapping names into computer, following up on the information Kate had suggested. Working backwards from the husband's name, Tony had half a family plotted out before he found the one sister on his mother's side. With a name, he was able to put together a file on the woman that included everything from her first job to her last car. His thoroughness was a point of personal pride, and it helped to avoid Gibbs' bark by having all the ducks in a row. Thirty minutes had passed before he felt comfortable enough to give the information to Gibbs. He was halfway to Gibbs' desk when his phone rang.

"DiNozzo," he greeted. His grin instantly fell. "Slow down, Abs. What?" He listened for a moment, his brows meeting between his eyes. "She what? Abs, take a deep breath. I can't understand-"

The file dropped from his hand.

"How bad?" The expression on his face was a wordless answer to the two men who were watching. Tony swallowed as if choking down glass. "Okay. On my way." He snapped his phone shut and grabbed his keys.

"Tony?" McGee asked.

Tony's face was deathly white. "It's Kate. I gotta go." He turned on Gibbs. "Might as well fire me while you're at it. _Boss_." He didn't wait for a reply.

Gibbs watched him jog to the elevator, then looked at McGee who sat dumbfounded. With a jerk of his head, he said, "Go."

The young man didn't need to be told twice. Now alone, Gibbs' gaze went immediately to Kate's dark desk where her badge sat like an accusation and an ominous memento. He held the back of his hand to his mouth to keep the bile down.

x...x

He always hated hospitals. Too white. Too sterile. Often too, too final. The quietness only ever seemed to be breached by bad news and useless platitudes by those who would say the same things to the next broken family. He entered the waiting room, seeing many familiar faces, but seeking out one in particular.

"Ducky," he said, seeing the older man in the corner, his arm around Abby. McGee raised his eyes in greeting, but Tony refused to acknowledge his arrival.

"Jethro," Ducky replied, gently extracting himself from Abby's embrace. He stood and pulled Gibbs away from the small crowd.

He didn't waste time thanking him for being the one to call, or asking why no one else did. "Tell me."

"There's not much to tell," Ducky answered. "From the little the police have said, it was a single vehicle accident. A patch of black ice on the road. She spun off the road and hit a tree."

Gibbs willed himself not to wince. "Head on?"

He shook his head. "No, unfortunately." Seeing Gibbs' sharp eyes narrow, he explained, "Head on would have deployed the airbag. She hit it full force with the driver's side of the vehicle." He pretended not to notice Gibbs clench his jaw.

"And her?"

"That, my friend, is what they won't tell. I've even pulled rank, what little I have, to no avail."

Happy to have a target of his anger besides himself, Gibbs scoured the area. "Who? Who do I talk to?"

"A Doctor Simmons," Ducky replied. "But he's currently in surgery with her."

Gibbs tried to ignore what that might mean. Spotting a young man jovially chatting at the nurses' station, he stalked over, full of simmering intent. Regardless of his current feelings towards the man, Tony watched in admiration as Gibbs leaned into the startled intern whose smile instantly disappeared under a newfound pale expression. Tony wondered if Gibbs had quietly threatened the guy's job or his balls. As was his way, once he was given the information he wanted, he left the source quivering in his wake, discarded.

Returning to the closed in group, Gibbs got right to the point.

"Broken collarbone, broken shoulder. Doc is gonna have to put in some pins and screws once he stops the internal bleeding."

"'Once'?" Tony repeated. "She's been in there for almost an hour."

"It's not entirely unusual, Anthony," Ducky tried to assure him. "Side impact will have left her completely open to trauma. It's often a very routine surgical procedure."

Abby looked up from McGee shoulder. "Head trauma?" she sniffed.

Gibbs shook his head. "Minor concussion but nothing she can't get over."

"Great," Tony said. "So your works done."

"Excuse me?"

"You came, got some answers in your esteemed Gibbsian way. Intern over there's probably shit himself, but that's the price ya gotta pay to get results, am I right? Case closed. Everybody can go home now, because God forbid any of us make emotional attachments."

"Tony," McGee whispered.

Bolstered by adrenaline of the moment, Tony plowed ahead. "Go back to the office, pour over the Bosman case for the 400th time, pretending your obsessiveness is a drive for justice. Oh, check Greg Bosman's aunt. Kate was on to something before-" His voice broke and the heat in his words cooled at the reminder of why they were all there. Abby stood and threw her arms around him.

Gibbs stood ramrod straight, absorbing the verbal onslaught without comment. Ducky silently appeared at his side.

"Emotions are high," he whispered. "Go home, Jethro. She's going to need a lot of help when they release her."

Gibbs' laugh was empty. "I'll be the last person she'll ask."

Seeing Gibbs' downcast gaze, Ducky frowned. "What in the world happened, Jethro?" Just as the words left his mouth, he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. What's important is that you're there. But you'll do her no good in the state you're in. A reconstructive surgery will take at least 2 hours. That's assuming he's done everything else. Go home. Have one of your infamous Marine naps. And have a shower. Your fear is so palpable I can almost smell it."

Decades of friendship allowed Ducky the accusation, and prevented Gibbs from verbally retaliating in kind. He gritted his teeth but said nothing. No one acknowledged his exit.


	2. Chapter 2

When he returned 1 hour and 59 minutes later, the tableau in the waiting room hadn't changed, everyone still huddled and silent. He put the tray of coffee on the table and glanced at Ducky. Wordlessly, he answered his unspoken question. After a considerable amount of time, McGee was the first to reach for the offering, and soon after, Tony and Abby followed suit. Everyone seemed to breathe for the first time. Tension lingered but felt more manageable until the door from surgery opened. The doctor stepped forward, the face of calm and devoid of emotion. Gibbs wondered how many times he had had this conversation. The surgeons hair stuck up at odd angles, having just removed the protective cap, and his shirt looked pristine. Gibbs tried not to think about what the surgical apron must have looked like. He briefly closed his eyes, willing away the image of Kate's blood staining the white smock.

The doctor looked at the group. "Family?"

"Yep."

The terse reply brought a flicker of reaction from the surgeon. "Okay. I'm Dr. Simmons. Surgery went as expected. Clavicle needed reconstruction which involved a small plate and 5 screws. The humerus was crushed into her scapula and clavicle, causing a fracture in the shoulder. The larger problem was the internal bleeding. She lost a lot of blood."

Tony stood. "I'll donate."

Tim followed suit. "Me, too."

Abby held out her arm.

Simmons held out his hands, slightly taken aback at the minor onslaught. "That won't be necessary. We were able to replace everything she lost. But feel free to show up at the next blood drive."

"Prognosis?"

He looked at Gibbs, appreciating the directness. "We'll keep her for a few days to make sure the internal stitching heals as it should. She's going to be in considerable pain for the next 5 to 7 days. We'll prescribe something for it, but the healing process isn't going to be easy."

"That's okay," Abby said. "You don't know Kate."

He conceded the point with a nod.

"Can we see her?" Tim asked in his uncertain way.

"There's not much to see," the doctor replied. "We're going to let her rest before introducing the difficult task of recovery."

Reaching out for Simmons' arm, Abby said, "We just want to see her. Please."

He must have seen Gibbs' dark expression because he sighed and shrugged. "Fine. One at a time. No more than 5 minutes. A look, no more."

Abby almost burst into tears with relief. "Thank you so much."

"Room 408," he supplied, and she was gone before the words were entirely out of his mouth.

"Thanks, Doc," Gibbs said, his face softening ever so slightly.

Simmons nodded, sensing something deeper than simple gratitude. "If you have any other questions, the nurses will have all the information."

A weight lifted from his chest and it took everything for Gibbs to find the strength in his legs to keep him upright. Ducky surreptitiously took hold of his elbow.

"She's going to be all right, Jethro." When a nod was all he got in reply, Ducky muttered under his breath, "The question is, will you?"

x...x

Tony was the last one to come out of the room, letting everyone go ahead, save Gibbs. With everyone now gone, the two men stood silently outside Kate's door. Tony rocked back on his heels once, twice, then spoke.

"About what I said earlier…" He knew better than to expect Gibbs to let him off the hook so lightly. "Right. I was out of line. Won't happen again."

Gibbs' eyes went to the door. "If we're lucky, Tony, there won't ever be reason to."

The weight in his voice spoke volumes, and Tony suddenly understood that the night might have hit them all, but it pierced Gibbs the deepest. He wanted to let him know in some way that he understood, but knew there were very few who could penetrate the wall Gibbs had put around his emotions. He glanced at the room that held one of those people.

"I'll jump on that Bosman lead first thing, Boss," he said instead, hoping Gibbs would see the intention behind the words.

Gibbs shook his head even as he appreciated Tony's attempt. "I don't wanna see you in that office tomorrow. Understood?"

"Boss-"

"Which one of those words isn't clear, DiNozzo?"

"None. Clear as crystal. Just wondering about Greg Bosman."

Gibbs dismissed the concern. "I'll take care of it. I'm assumin' the info's on the paper you left all over the office floor?" Tony had the grace to look sheepish. "I'll call the locals, have 'em pick up Bosman if he's there. Let 'im sit for 24 hours and come up with a good story."

"You sure, Boss?" Seeing Gibbs' raised eyebrow, he quickly backtracked. "Yeah, what am I saying? Okay. Let me know if anything changes?" He looked at the door again.

"Sure," Gibbs replied, with less edge. "Call McGee and tell 'im to stay home, too."

"He's not gonna believe this," Tony said, walking away. "Hell, I don't."

x...x

It wasn't that he hadn't seen his fair share of hospital patients, and it wasn't that some of them weren't people he cared about, but seeing Kate in a bed that looked two sizes too big, in a state that was too frail was almost too much for him to comprehend. The silence that he hated about waiting rooms was broken here by the rhythmic hissing of the oxygen pump and the persistent beeping of the EKG machine. He should've found comfort in the signs of life, but he felt irrational anger at the simple machines that were measuring something so much more. He inhaled deeply through his nose, held it, then exhaled.

The doctor had been very concise with his description of the injuries, so Gibbs was well-prepared for the sling, the bandages and the faint antiseptic smell. What he wasn't ready for were the bruises and cuts that spread and sprinkled across the left side of her face. Of course she'd have them, he thought to himself. The impact was on the driver's side, and her entire left side bore the brunt of the collision. Still, to see her beauty marred in that way made him step closer, as if he could heal them with a touch and a wish. He let his fingertips gently brush across her forehead before letting his hand fall to his side.

"I'm here, Kate."

It was a statement and a promise.

A decade and a half in the Corps taught him to sleep anywhere, and hospital chairs were almost a comfort in comparison to some of the places he'd caught some shuteye. The overnight nurse casually mentioned hospital policy, knowing full well she wouldn't get much in reply beyond a terse, "Okay." She liked his eyes and the way they watched the patient in the bed, so she gave a sage nod and offered anything if he needed it. This, too, was given a simple, "Okay."

He left before shift change, but not before allowing himself the imprint of Kate's fingers in his.

x...x

He wasn't there when she was roused from her sleep by the day staff, though he had heard all about it from an excited Abby, who encouraged him to visit. He didn't, at least not in the daytime. As relieved as he was to know Kate was back with the living, he wondered if it was best if he just stayed in the shadows that darkened her room at 3 in the morning. So that's what he did. For three nights, he sat in the chair, subjected himself to the night nurse's judgmental tsking ("You need glasses if you're gonna read in the dark!") and finished up the work on the Bosman case. Breaking the murderous husband and father in interrogation left Gibbs unsatisfied; he found the usual cathartic outlet of nailing bastards to the wall empty and lacking. It was only when he settled in the hospital chair did he feel any kind of completion.

"Gibbs?"

His head jerked up so fast, he heard his neck crack. She was off the oxygen, but still on a low dose painkiller, enough that he hadn't expected to get caught. He debated staying silent and hoping she'd forget it or dismiss it as a dream, but the way she looked at him banished any deception aside. He closed the file on his lap.

"Kate."

She licked her parched lips before she said, "You look like shit."

He laughed for what felt like the first time in his life, even as he swallowed the lump in his throat. A tightness developed in his lungs and he brought a hand up to his chest. "Yeah, so I've been told, repeatedly by Jackie." He saw her frown. "The night nurse. Name's Jackie."

His explanation did little to smooth the wrinkle on her forehead. "How many nights have you been here?"

"Every." His mouth was a bit too fast for his brain. "I mean..." He waved away his stumble and the truth.

He was saved by a presence in the doorway.

"We got a lil' blip at the nurses' station," Jackie said, padding her way into the room. "Just comin' to see how you're doin'." She gently took Kate's wrist between her thumb and fingers. "Though can't say I blame you- this one here gets my heart all a flutter, too."

"Jackie," he growled.

His mildly threatening tone rolled off her back like water to a duck, especially when it got a short but genuine laugh from Kate.

"It's okay," she replied, "I know a prince can only have one princess. But maybe send that young Italian to cover one of your night shifts?"

"Jackie." His voice was firmer now.

"You're doin' great, sweetie," she said to Kate, ignoring Gibbs' growing ire. "Has the doctor said anything about discharging you?"

Kate shook her head and closed her eyes. "Not that I remember."

Jackie jotted down some information on the clipboard at the end of the bed. "Well, the good news is, Mr. Special Agent Gibbs, you probably only need to sleep in that chair one more night. Doctor'll likely have her out day after tomorrow."

"'Mr. Special Agent Gibbs'," Kate repeated with a giggle.

He gave her a side look. "That's the drugs, right?"

Jackie shrugged. "Mostly, yeah, but if I were you, I'd be careful of sayin' anything you wouldn't want to have to plead the fifth to. But that's just me. I'll see you tomorrow night. Good night, Miss Todd."

"'Night, Jackie."

The room went quiet again, and just when he thought Kate had fallen asleep, she reached out for his hand.

"Stay."

Pulling the chair closer with his free hand, he sat and let her pull his hand to her chest. She seemed to find comfort in the weight and he was soothed by the heartbeat under his palm.

"Not goin' anywhere," he promised.

x...x


	3. Chapter 3

With the holidays coming up, updating will be sporadic, which explains why I posted chapter 2 about 8 hours ago, and am now posting ANOTHER chapter! So just make sure you've already read chapter 2 before reading this one. Thanks to those who are reading and reviewing. Makes this fic writer's heart happy. (Went back and fixed some of the formatting so there are proper breaks within the chapter.)

x...x

Though the fearful edge of not knowing was smoothed away by their short conversation the night before, Gibbs showed up again, even if she didn't remember his promise. In fact, with the gauzy haze of painkillers being stripped away, reality's tendrils started to pull memories into focus, and despite Kate rousing once in the middle of the night to call the nurse, she didn't acknowledge his presence. If he had any doubts she was beginning to put the pieces together, his appearance in her doorway that afternoon did little to banish them.

"Where's Tony?" she asked, awkwardly putting her things together.

A nurse must've helped her get dressed, because Gibbs couldn't imagine she got all those buttons up herself. Her left arm rested in a tight cuff that looped up around her neck, and he knew from experience it would be the only way to keep the shoulder set while it healed. He also knew it was painful as hell. To no one's surprise, she kept her reactions to the pain to herself. Gibbs touched the wheelchair.

"I got him followin' up on somethin'."

She pressed her lips together. "Of course you do."

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he double-tapped the chair. "C'mon, let's go."

For a second, he wondered if she would protest, but he only saw defeat in her eyes. It hurt his heart, but he, too, was good at hiding the pain.

"Fine."

They picked up her prescription and he helped her into his truck as carefully as possible. A compromise with the seat belt ended up with the chest strap looped under her good arm. He had to lift her left arm just enough to click the buckle into place, and had his ear not been so close to her mouth, he might have missed the sharp intake of breath.

"I know," he whispered, catching himself before the 'sweetheart' escaped his lips.

He closed the door with just enough force for it to catch but not jar her too much, and he did the same when he came around to his side. He pulled out of the parking spot and they were on their silent way. He tried to find the smoothest route to her apartment, though DC traffic made it almost impossible. Glancing over every once in a while to see how she was doing, Gibbs found himself struggling to find something to say, something to bring a light to her eyes, to bring a lift to her lips. He was used to being the functional mute, but wasn't prepared when the tables were turned, especially when Kate was on the other side of it. He was just about to reach for the radio, reach for anything to bring some goddamn sound into the space when she spoke.

"Huh," she said. He encouraged her to continue with his raised eyebrow. "I just realized if I had quit a day earlier, my insurance wouldn't have covered the accident. Got lucky there."

He winced at the words. 'Quit'. 'Accident'. 'Lucky'.

The bile that crept up his throat was pushed down with a gruff, "I wouldn't have accepted your resignation."

She turned her head away from the endless scenery to give him a long look that he pretended he didn't notice.

"Of course you wouldn't," she blew out.

The flat sarcasm hit its mark. Gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, he wondered why he just couldn't say it. Say he was stupid. Say he'd do anything to take it back. Say he was sorry.

"I'm…"

She waited for him to finish, pinning him under her gaze. When nothing further came, she shook her head in a mixture of disappointment and amazement.

"You just can't say it, can you? Rule 6. You can't say it because it's a sign of weakness."

Eyes straight ahead and his voice low, he replied, "I can't say it because it's… inadequate."

Out of all the possible replies, she must not have considered this one, because the word seemed to act like a pin that slowly deflated all of her anger.

"Oh," was all she said, without sarcasm or accusation.

Resting his elbow on the window ledge, he rubbed his chin with a forefinger. "Listen. We need to talk about what happened in the office. We will. I want to. But what I really wanna do right now is just get you home. Get you comfortable. That's not gonna be an easy heal." His eyes flicked to her injured shoulder. "Trust me."

Her small smile lit up the truck. "If I promise to be a good patient, will you tell me how you know?"

Unable to not return the smile, he said, "Sure," then realized she had drawn him out without even trying.

x...x

She could walk on her own two feet, though the trip from the truck to her apartment was a labouring one. Gibbs offered his arm around her waist which she gratefully took after 7 steps. It hurt to move forward. It hurt to stop. It hurt to breathe. When the elevator jerked to a stop on her floor, she thought she'd scream. He didn't say a word, didn't ask her how she was doing, and for once, she was grateful for his aversion to stating the obvious. She wasn't sure what happened in the truck, but something in him had shifted in a way that felt like a warm blanket on a cold day, and between the drugs and his newfound tenderness, she knew any query into her well-being would reduce her to a puddle of suck, and she didn't have the energy to figure out what _that_ was all about. To her dismay, he gently but firmly guided her away from her immediate destination. He had the temerity to chuckle at her low whine, but he soothed her with his explanation.

"You need to be sitting up with proper pillows and blankets, not some half-assed bed on a couch."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Good to see the drugs are working."

"Mmmmm."

If she ever had any embarrassment at having her boss- _Gibbs_ \- in her bedroom, his single mindedness to get her into bed- in the most innocuous of ways- banished any wayward awkwardness. He gave nothing a second look except the bed and its function.

"Do you, uh, need to use the head?"

"Stand down, Gunney," she smirked. "No, I don't need to use the bathroom."

"Good."

Lightly touching her good shoulder, he made her sit down. He knelt as she sat, and the drugs were really kicking in, because she was sure he was taking off her shoes like some kind of Prince Charming in reverse. He pressed his thumbs into the arch of her feet and when she groaned, his eyebrows seemed to silently take in the reaction for future study. She had no qualms about taking the vocal approach.

"Any time you want to do that, just let me know," she sighed, eyes closed, and was rewarded with a chuckle and another squeeze.

He stood, needlessly dragging his fingertips up her calves, and she missed the spark when he began reaching for her pillows.

"Are these all you have?" he asked.

She filed away his touch for colder nights. "It's 4 pillows, Gibbs."

He frowned. "Don't women have…" he waved his hands around.

Laughing, she said, "Look who's sneaking a peek at the home decorating magazines at the checkout. I have 2 more in the closet. I hope 6 meets with your approval." She made a motion to shrug and immediately regretted it.

Wagging a finger at her, he said, "That's what you get for sassin' me."

The 2 joined the 4 and all 6 were manhandled into a position that satisfied Gibbs. His touch returned to her calves though in a less heated way than the first time. With care, he lifted her legs onto the bed, allowing her time to shift herself back into the pillows with her good arm. She let him fuss over her position until he was marginally happy, if only because she had seen that look of determination in his eyes before and there was no sense getting in the way. Besides, there was something comforting about being the object of that determination.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes skimming over the finished product, daring it to show a flaw.

She grinned his little half grin. "I'm fine, Gibbs. Really?"

"Mmmm." He stood back with his arms crossed. "Hungry?"

Her stomach growled at the word. "Apparently I am."

"Okay. I'll see what I can dig up."

"Good luck," she called out to his back.

x...x

 _Boy, she wasn't kidding_ , he thought when he took stock of the supplies. Granted, she had just spent the last few days in the hospital, but still. He'd have to go out and get some things. _Maybe clean out that crisper._ He nearly hit his head pulling it out of the fridge. "Clean the crisper," he said out loud. "Jesus. Get a grip."

He found a pot and a pan and improvised as best he could. While he waited for the soup to heat, he rewarded himself with a walk around Kate's living room. There wasn't much to see; one living room always seemed the same as the last, but it was the bookshelves that held the secrets of the owners. Suspects, victims, friends, family all had bookshelves, and he was pulled to hers.

 _Professional interest_ , he told himself. He had never been in her apartment before today and it was his duty as her boss to- _To what? To find out she has an inexplicable interest in Colin Firth and a surprising amount of horror movies?_ He brushed away the accusing voice and continued his perusal.

 _Professional perusal._

There was a surprising lack of photos from her days in the Secret Service. He was certain there'd be at least one obligatory photo of her and the President, but there were only 3 pictures on display. One was a Christmas photo from her first year at NCIS. Someone from another team must've taken it, because it was all of them- Ducky, Abby, Gerald, McGee, Tony, Kate and him. He hated his picture taken and this one was no exception. His smile looked forced, though maybe not entirely, considering how close he was standing to Kate.

The second was a group photo of 4 kids of various ages, 2 boys and 2 girls, the youngest of which was holding up a frog towards the other girl. The expressions on their faces told the story- the 2 boys obviously put the young girl up to the task, though based on her toothless grin, it didn't take much. The older girl wasn't nearly as impressed as the other three. It was a moment not posed but caught in time, and Gibbs couldn't help but smile along with the three kids. He almost gave himself a headslap when it came to him- these were the Todd kids, and that one in the middle, with the mischievous smile and outstretched frog was Kate. He looked towards the bedroom and grinned.

The third was on the highest shelf, not necessarily out of the way, but not the first picture that would catch someone's attention. He took it down and looked at the bedroom again. He remembered the day well-

 _Work it, Tony, work it._

 _DiNozzo strut across the carpet while Kate's camera followed his path, to the smattering of cheers from people around the office. Strut. Pose. Strut. Pose. Someone's phone had the devilish idea of playing "I'm Too Sexy". Tony was lapping it up. Anne from the Surveillance squad waved a 10 dollar bill. He gyrated over to her and was within an arm's length when she quickly turned around and hightailed it in the other direction. Tony frowned, but it didn't take long for his brain to take stock of his surroundings. People had scattered like ants and Kate's camera stopped making noise._

" _He's right behind me, isn't he?"_

 _Tim coughed. "Uh, yes."_

" _Thanks, Probie."_

" _DiNozzo…"_

 _He turned and grinned. "Kate's got a new camera. She was just testing it out to see all the cool new features and I thought I'd help her out. Isn't that right, Kate?"_

 _Her mouth twitched at the desperate break at the end of the question. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Tony."_

" _Kate, c'mon!"_

" _DiNozzo…"_

" _Sure thing, Boss! Going to get those results from Abby right now!"_

 _McGee frowned. "We don't have an open case-"_

" _Probie," Tony growled._

" _Oh, right."_

" _For that, you can come with me."_

 _The two men practically scurried out of the office before Gibbs could find something worse for them to do. Kate fiddled with her camera but didn't move. Gibbs narrowed his eyes._

" _You just encourage him."_

 _She shrugged. "He's not wrong- it_ is _a new camera."_

 _He tried tamping down his reaction to her banter by frowning, but she wasn't having any of it._

" _Maybe I could get a picture of you? Just to make sure it works?"_

 _He shook his head. "Not a chance."_

" _Just one little picture?"_

 _Her pout was going to be the death of him. "If you think for a second I'm going to…" He motioned to the empty space on the floor, and it took Kate a second to realize what he was implying._

" _Well, I wasn't thinking about it_ before _." She punctuated her innuendo with a smirk and a wink, and his steely resolve lasted all of 5 and a half seconds before he cracked under her playful persuasion._

 _Click._

He hadn't realized she had been lining him up for the shot the entire time they'd been talking, but as soon as he heard the camera, he knew he had been played like a violin. Somehow he didn't seem to mind. He rarely looked at himself beyond a shave in the mirror every morning, so to see himself in the photo, so… _unguarded_ caught him by surprise. The fact she had kept the photo on her bookshelf surprised him even more.

A bubble and hiss from the stove caught his attention, and he returned the photo to its spot.

x...x

"Whatever it is, smells wonderful," she said, her eyes closed.

Finding a place to put the bowl on the nightstand, he sat against her right hip and rested the plate on his lap. Opening her eyes, she took in his offering and smiled.

"Tomato soup and grilled cheese?"

"It was the best I could do with what I was given. I'll go get ya supplies later."

She touched his arm. "I love tomato soup and grilled cheese."

"Who doesn't?" he asked. "My mom always gave it to me when I was sick or came home with a busted lip or somethin'."

"I think if you came home with a busted lip and she gave you soup, she was trying to teach you a lesson."

He slowly nodded at the suggestion. "You may be right."

"Didn't work though, did it?"

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "Eat your damn soup."

When she went to reach for it, he saw the problem and he cursed himself for not thinking it through.

"I'll hold it. You eat."

Her eyes widened when he cradled the bowl in his hand and handed her the spoon. She curled the soup into the spoon and brought it up to her lips. The bowl followed her to her chin.

"If you start feeding me grapes, I'm going to wonder what happened to Gibbs."

He knew he projected an aura of thistles, a gruff demeanour that was meant to keep most people away, and did. He knew it because he had perfected it for years. Yet to hear her words, even meant in jest, irrationally angered him. She wasn't supposed to be 'most people'.

"Just let me take care of ya, will ya?" The hard edge to the words caused the soup to ripple over the lip of the bowl. "Shit." He reached for the nearby tissue box.

She didn't reply, only watched the emotions play out in his blue eyes, the ones she said could never lie to her. Even a downcast gaze couldn't hide them. She waited for him to mop up the small spill before asking, "Did you ever close the Bosman case?"

His head jerked up sharply. "What?"

"The Bosman case. Greg Bosman."

"Oh. Yeah, we, uh, followed up on the aunt." His small confusion turned to understanding when he looked into her eyes. He hoped his conveyed his appreciation for the change in subject. "Got him the day after." He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'accident'. "Eat that sandwich before the cheese gets cold."

"Did your mom cut it into triangles like this for you?"

"You disparaging my mother's grilled cheese technique?"

She grinned, taking a bite from one of the corners. "I don't blame you, you know." She waited until she was certain he understood she wasn't talking about the way he cut sandwiches. He turned his head away but was called back to her eyes with a simple word. "Gibbs."

God, he wondered what 'Jethro' would sound like coming out of her mouth. He pushed down that question and instead asked, "Yeah?"

"We said some horrible things to each other. Hell, I said some shitty things about you to Tony. But nothing that happened after I left the building was your fault."

"What did you say to Tony?"

She shook her head. "Out of those three things, that's not the one you should be concentrating on."

"I deserved everything you said."

"Also not the thing you should be concentrating on."

He held up the bowl to her lips and she took a spoonful without breaking eye contact. Left with only one option left, he sighed and briefly closed his eyes.

"The way I remember it, the only person who said horrible things was me. You were only speakin' the truth." Taking a deep breath, he plowed ahead, "It wasn't what we said that bothered me, Kate. It's the idea that those could have been our last words to each other."

"Gibbs, it's like that every day. Every time we go home at the end of the night, that could be the last time we see each other."

"Jesus, Kate, I didn't know you were so fatalistic."

"I prefer 'realist'. Considering the job we're in and the dangers we face, I'm surprised you're not more of one."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how he could make her understand when he was just learning the truth of it himself- dangers on the job were expected and they did everything they could to be prepared for any eventuality. And when it came to Kate Todd, he made sure to do everything and more. But the accident was a cruel reminder that he wasn't always around to protect her, and it burned like hell to know it.

She saw his struggle in his stormy eyes, his downturned mouth, the line between his brows. Again, she found just the right way to alter the subject away from his wounded heart.

"So let's make sure we never leave each other angry. It's all we can do, Gibbs."

He grumbled, not sure if he liked the agreement, but couldn't find fault in it, either. "Fine. Deal. Are you done?" He gestured to the food.

"Yeah," she replied, suddenly tired. "Why are my eyelids so heavy?"

"The painkillers are wearin' off, but they're tellin' your body to shut down," he told her, gathering the dishes. "You've got another 3 hours before the next round. Try an' get some shut eye."

"There'll be no trying involved," she said, yawning. "Halfway there already."

"I'll come back at 8 to check in."

She reached out blindly. "Don't go."

He balanced the bowl on the plate to reach out with a free hand. "I've gotta get you some food. There isn't a lick of anythin' in this place."

"You have a nice voice."

He blinked hard. "So I'm gonna go. Anythin' you need?"

The squeeze on his hand loosened as she began to drift off. "Jus' you. An' some ice cream."

"Okay." He resisted the urge to kiss her fingertips before gently placing her hand on the bed. "I'll be back."

"I like those words."

By the time he got to the door, she was out.

x...x


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn't find enough things to fill 3 hours- he could only wander around the grocery store contemplating which ice cream to get for so long before the staff started looking at him funny. Which is why he found himself back at Kate's, an hour and a half sooner than he promised, with his head in the fridge.

 _Crisper looks amazing. Maybe you could defrost the freezer next._

He ignored the taunt from his own treacherous mind and contemplated his next move. Kate had been asleep when he came back, though he knew he was going to need to wake her soon, and 3 hours wasn't enough to analyze, deal with and file away whatever the hell was going on ever since he buckled her into his truck. The envelope of emotions that opened the moment Tony took that phone call needed to be resealed, and quickly before the contents spilled out all over the floor. It'd be a hell of a lot harder to clean up than the kitchen.

Running out of excuses and things to clean, he sighed and lightly knocked on the bedroom door. Silence greeted him. He stepped halfway into the room. She still didn't stir.

"Kate," he said, to no avail. He tried it again, firmer, and adding, "I've got ice cream."

"What kind?"

Her clarity made him chuckle. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since you came back." She tried to shift into a sitting position, and he was immediately at her side. "But I heard you cleaning and thought, 'Who am I to disturb him?'"

"Free labour," he said, shaking his head and adjusting her pillows. "For that, no Cherry Garcia."

"Giiiibbs."

There was that pout again.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm here to give you your medication. Couldn't find a glass in that disaster you call a kitchen. So I got sidetracked."

She touched her stomach. "Don't freak out, but I think I changed my mind on the ice cream."

"It's the pills. Does a number on ya."

"My head, too. Do I need to keep taking it?"

"No," he shook his head and couldn't stop himself from brushing a thumb across her forehead. "It's gonna hurt, though."

She turned into the touch. "I know. I just hate this half awake half asleep feeling in my head."

"Okay. Whaddya want me to do?"

Pausing, as if contemplating her options, her mouth twitched. "My laundry?"

x...x

Falling asleep on a couch was second nature to him, so he shouldn't have been surprised to find he had fallen asleep on hers. It lacked the well worn shape of him, so instead of forcing his body into one position, the soft cushions encouraged him into any position he liked. His back begged him to never leave. The television had been left on the local news but was now showing some workout infomercial that reminded him he hadn't gone on a run in a week. Glowering at the enthusiastic spokesperson, he jabbed the power button and tossed the remote on the coffee table.

The apartment was just settling into silence when he heard it. Soft, but a definite sound. Whimpering. Gibbs was at the bedroom door in an instant. Announcing his presence with a knock, he poked his head into the lowly lit room, and his heart constricted at the sight. Kate was slumped to the side, away from her injury, face contorted in pain.

"Kate, Kate," he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Her good hand clenched his thigh as he rearranged the pillows behind her.

"Next time I decide to play tough, don't let me, okay?"

He couldn't help but grin. "It's your nature."

"Yeah, well, my nature is stupid."

Gentle hands guided her back into the pillows. Rather than argue, he just shook his head. "You want the drugs?"

She tried to settle. "No. I just want to sleep."

"Hold on a minute."

Before she had the chance to question him, he was out the door, and just as quickly, was back. Crushing a small bag in his hand, he returned to the bed and placed the bag on her shoulder. She hissed when the frozen peas made contact with her injury.

"Ice?" she whined. "What part of 'I just want to sleep' did you not get?"

Shaking his head in amusement, he said, "Heat later. But the ice is gonna help you now, trust me."

She looked into his eyes and saw both the humour and the compassion, and it warmed her more than a heating pad or blanket. His eyes, so often icy blue were butane hot and it seemed to burn her everywhere he looked. His free hand caressed her good shoulder almost absentmindedly, just as his gaze touched everything else. She tried to hold on to the moment, but it was all conspiring to lull her to sleep. Her eyes drooped and she could hear his voice encouraging her to go with it, to not fight it. She wondered if it was a metaphor for something more, but she couldn't-

He grinned when her chin dropped to her chest.

"'Night, Kate."

x...x

It took more effort than she would have liked, but nature called as well as a curious sound from the kitchen. So with wobbly legs and a disheveled appearance, she made one trip first, then turned the corner. She put a hand on the wall to take in the sight before her. With his back to her, Gibbs stood at the stove in well-worn jeans and a t-shirt that looked so soft she wanted nothing more than to crawl up in it. The smells coming from a pan blocked by his body made her stomach growl and reminded her she hadn't eaten in over 18 hours, but she was willing to starve if it meant having more time to burn this image in her brain.

"When you're done starin', you might wanna try gettin' some of this down."

Of course he had known she was there. Of course. She let a grin appear freely on her lips. Coming to his left side, she peered around him to see what he was cooking.

"Not much," he said. "Just eggs and toast."

"Pretty sure that's a cheese omelette and that's sourdough bread."

"Sure. Okay."

She raised an eyebrow at his stoic deflection, but squeezed his arm in a silent thanks.

"Go sit," he told her.

Carefully, she sat at the small kitchen island. Glancing around the apartment, her gaze stopped at the couch.

"You spent the night."

He looked over his shoulder. "Yeah," he answered, drawing out the word in slight confusion. "You do remember the whole frozen peas thing, right?"

"Yeah, of course." She rubbed her forehead. "I'm just really losing track of time."

"It's Friday, 0830. You got out of the hospital yesterday." He put a plate in front of her. "Ringin' any bells?"

She laughed. "Okay, okay. Wait. It's 8:30?"

He pulled out a chair to join her. "Yep."

"On a Friday?"

"I took the day off," he said, anticipating the question.

"You what?"

Her mock astonishment drew out a growl. "What? I can take a day off, ya know."

"First one this decade though, huh?"

"Eat your food." He looked at her over his coffee cup. "Surprised you're up. Always imagined you rolled out of bed 5 minutes before you had to be in the car."

"Not sure if that's a compliment or not." The food touched her lips and she moaned. "This is very good." Pretending not to notice him shift in his seat at her purr, she said, "It hurts to sit up. It hurts to lay down. It hurts to breathe. Thought I'd try something different."

Any wayward thoughts he might have had were pushed down in light of her discomfort. "You're gonna get tired of me asking, but what do you need me to do?"

She savoured more of the meal before answering. "Can we get out today, just for a little? I'm already going stir crazy."

"We can do that," he agreed. "Not too long, though."

"And I need help with a shower."

He did everything he could to contain his sputter. She hit his back several times with her good hand.

"Say something, Gibbs."

"'Jesus!' How 'bout that?" he said, squeezing out the last ripples of his cough.

She didn't bother containing her laugh. "I didn't mean you, Gibbs. I was thinking of calling Abby."

Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he nodded. "Right."

"I mean, unless, you know…" His glare did nothing to deter her mirth.

"You wanna call Abs first or get out?"

"Probably call Abs."

"Good. I gotta go do something." When she quirked an eyebrow, he gave away nothing. "You're not the only one who needs a shower."

Her grin grew, then dropped. "Hey! Are you saying I stink?"

"Are you saying I do?" Both their grins returned. "Call Abby."

x...x

He was gone long enough to take a shower, change, and do one thing more, but not long enough to avoid Abby leaving the apartment.

"Hey, Bossman, looking clean and smelling fresh!"

"Thanks?"

"Meant Kate, but, okay!"

"Everything go all right?"

"Sure." She kissed Gibbs' cheek. "Want some tips so you can do it yourself next time?"

"Nope," he said without hesitation, much to her amusement. "Thanks, Abs," he said, returning the kiss.

"Anytime."

The apartment smelled of bergamot and Kate, and Gibbs wondered if he'd ever get the smell out of his olfactory senses. Wondered if he'd ever want to. She was putting the dishes away when he stepped into the kitchen.

"Hey."

She turned with a smile. "Hey."

It was strangely domestic, though neither acknowledged it.

"Can we go now?" she asked.

Flicking his wrist, he glanced at his watch. "Five minutes. They should be right behind me."

"'They'?"

On cue, a knock came at the door. Gibbs held up a finger.

"Gentlemen." He stepped aside to let the two men in. "Left at the end of the hall."

Kate watched them manoeuvre a large covered item towards her bedroom. Gibbs held her in place with a look, then joined them. Less than a minute passed before all 3 came out. Gibbs peeled off some bills from his pocket and thanked them. When the door closed, he invited her to the bedroom with a casual jerk of his head, and her curiosity wouldn't let her refuse. He walked directly in, waited for her to follow, then wordlessly pulled away the disposable cover.

Kate's eyes went wide. "You… you bought me a chair?"

His mouth twitched. "First, this isn't just a chair. At least that's what the lady told me at the store." He sat in it, reached to the side and pressed a button. It automatically began to recline. "There's a remote for heat, but you can't use that for another 2 weeks."

Looking at him, reclining so casually made her wonder what it'd be like to see him doing that every day. The fact that it was in the bedroom wasn't as out of place in her mind as she would've once thought. The comfort of the idea almost made her forget her question.

"What's the second bit?"

His eyes were closed, reveling in the chairs comfort. "What? Oh. I didn't buy you a chair. I bought me a chair. I'm lettin' you borrow it."

She laughed at his logic. "I see. It looks very comfortable."

"It is," he agreed, eyes still closed. When there was no reply, he cracked one open. "Wanna try it?"

"Wouldn't mind, no."

"Automatic button," he told her, "So you don't have to strain yourself." The chair returned to its upright position and he stood. "It's all yours."

Needing no further encouragement, she slid into the seat, still warm with him. It was nothing more than a simple push of a button and the seat went back again. It molded so perfectly with her body, taking all the pressure off her injury, she couldn't help but moan.

"You two need some alone time?"

"Very funny." She paused ever so slightly, sinking into its delights. "Yeah, maybe." Hearing his 'hmph!', she brought the chair upright once more. "Okay, okay. But you'd better be taking me somewhere amazing."

x...x


	5. Chapter 5

x...x

"Okay. This is a pretty good substitute." Kate curled one hand around a coffee mug and inhaled deeply.

Her joy was so unbridled that Gibbs couldn't help but laugh. Her eyes twinkled over the rim.

"What?"

She shrugged with her good shoulder. "I just like your laugh." When he looked away, she bent her head to try and catch his gaze. "Are you blushing? Oh my god, you're blushing."

"I'm takin' that chair back."

His threat only brought out her own laugh.

"Thanks," she said. "For everything."

He tried not to think of everything that had brought them here, though he knew he couldn't avoid it entirely.

"We should probably talk about work."

Her smile fell and he kicked himself.

"Okay." She looked down into her coffee.

He leaned forward to keep the moment close. His fingertips briefly brushed across hers.

"I don't want you rushin' back," he said, trying to stay focused.

"So I still have a job?"

Her shy smirk made his attempt at a stern "Kate…" less intimidating than he intended.

The smirk grew. "What are my options?"

He leaned back but kept his body open. "You can come in on desk duty until you start physio, or you can stay home. Maybe work on some cold cases."

She winced. "Please don't make me stay home. I'm already itching to shoot something and my shooting hand is all good."

His laugh was back and so was hers.

"Okay. Desk duty. But your hours are flexible. Come in early but you start hurtin', you go home, understood?"

"Understood."

He gave a satisfied nod over his cup. "Anything else we need to do before goin' home?" He pretended he didn't notice how natural it felt to put 'we' and 'home' together.

"I need a car."

"What for?"

She looked at him like he had 2 heads. "So I can get to work?"

"Sure," he replied, "because I'm lettin' ya drive to work with that." His eyes pointed to her arm.

"What? You're going to pick me up and drop me off every day?" Her tone was sarcastic disbelief.

"Yep."

His answer was so quick and casual, it caught her off-guard.

"Oh."

"That a problem?"

"Nope." She met his eyes and was rewarded with a grin.

"Good. Anything else?"

"Nope," she repeated. "Let's go home."

x...x

It was on the way back that Gibbs realized he didn't have much reason to stay. Kate, though still not completely self-sufficient, seemed to be well enough that she was getting around on her own. He wondered when he decided he didn't want to leave, wondered if she'd even want him to-

"-make dinner?"

"What?"

"And I'm the one who shouldn't be driving? I said, can I make dinner? You know, as my way of saying 'thanks'."

He turned up her street. "You don't need to do that."

"I know." She took at his introspective profile. "You don't still feel guilty about what happened, do you?"

"Don't profile me, Kate."

"After 3 years, I hope it's not profiling. I'd like to think I know you well enough to guess what's going on behind that serious face."

He stole a glance and saw her poker face imitation.

"Jesus," he muttered, turning away. He rubbed his chin with his forefinger. "Look. I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm just tryin' to make things right."

"Even things up," she suggested.

"Yeah, I guess."

"When will you know things are even? What more do you need to do?"

He never liked being forced to examine his feelings. "I dunno. Is that what you wanna hear?"

They pulled into her parking spot.

"I was just wondering if I'd get my cupboard doors above the stove fixed before you considered the debt repaid." He didn't find the humour in her teasing, and she reached across her body to touch his hand. "Gibbs, listen to me. I was mad. You were mad. We said things we didn't mean. But none of those things were responsible for what happened."

"If I hadn't made you stay late, it never would've happened."

"Maybe not that. But maybe something else."

Narrowing his eyes, he stared out the windshield, contemplating her words. He wouldn't entirely admit she was right, so instead said, "Maybe." He turned off the ignition. "Okay?"

"Okay." She watched him unclipped her seat belt. "You're still going to fix those cabinets, right?" His glower did nothing to dim her beaming smile.

x...x

He came out of the bedroom after prepping the recliner with sheets and pillows and stopped in the kitchen entrance. There was a pot of water and a pan on the stove. Kate was sitting at the kitchen island.

"I thought you were making dinner," he said.

Gesturing to her injury, she admitted, "I may need some help."

"'May'?"

"Fine, I need your help."

He walked over to the sink to wash his hands. "Okay. Whaddya need?"

Half an hour later, they sat over a hot meal and some wine.

"So the lesson I took outta this is, when you ask for help, what you mean is, 'Jethro, can you do it for me?'"

"No!" she protested. Over the glass, she said, "I would never call you 'Jethro'." A sip disguised her grin.

Lifting his own glass, he swirled the contents and asked, "Never?" The vague suggestiveness in his voice made her sputter, and it was his turn to grin. "I think you just like givin' me orders. Captain."

"Anyway, " she went on, ignoring the devil on his shoulder, "I helped!"

"I cut the tomatoes, pressed the garlic, rolled the meatballs and opened the wine."

"I boiled the spaghetti."

"You did," he agreed.

"And I have a dishwasher, so you're off the hook for that. Gunny."

"I made- my mistake- _we_ made enough you'll have leftovers for tomorrow," he said, pretending he hadn't heard her sly address.

She parsed his words and frowned. "You won't be here tomorrow?"

Her disappointment caught him off guard. "I didn't think you'd want me hangin' around."

"Oh."

"Which is obviously wrong."

"No. I mean…"

He glanced over his shoulder at the stove. As if the thought just occurred to him, he remarked, "Those cabinets need fixin'."

"They do," she agreed. "And you've been drinking, so…"

He raised an eyebrow at the half empty glass.

"I'm just saying," Kate offered, much to his amusement.

"I'll take some measurements after loadin' the dishwasher. Maybe make some coffee."

"Oh, I can do that. Don't give me that look. I know how to make tar."

"Hmmm," he grunted. "How ya feelin'?"

She closed her eyes to take a mental inventory. "Good," she concluded. "The pain doesn't make my teeth hurt anymore, so that's great."

"Good, because you just had wine. Forgot the two don't mix."

"Because you never have wine or you never take painkillers? Nevermind." She held up a hand before he could reply. "What am I saying?"

"I've taken painkillers," he objected.

"Yeah, when you were in the hospital. Sedated."

He shrugged like a 5 year old. "Still counts." Seeing her head lower and her hair cover her grin, he stood. "Make the damn coffee."

x...x

A pot of coffee and a bottle of wine later, they ended up on the couch, fake-arguing between sports and a forensic drama when Kate yawned. She turned into the cushions as her eyes started to droop.

"Hey," he whispered, cupping her chin. "You're gonna hurt my feelin's. Bought that chair for you an' you're fallin' asleep on the couch."

Murmuring into his touch, she said, "You sleep on the couch."

"Why do you always have to argue with me?"

She giggled in her sleepiness. "It's fun."

"Fun? Fun?"

His mock indignation only made her giggle more.

"You're delirious," he told her. "Let's go to bed." The giggle turned into a snort. "You know what I mean."

He stood and gently took her hand, pulling her to her feet. She whined at the intrusion but stood and wobbled into his chest. With his free hand, he gripped her hip to stop her from bumping her injured arm against him. As she had done on the couch, she turned into the comfort and closed her eyes.

"No, no, no," Gibbs said, his voice soft. "C'mon. Bed."

"Fiiiine."

With an arm around her waist, he led her, however reluctantly, to the bedroom. It was when they entered that he saw the problem.

"You gonna sleep in that?" He looked at her from top to bottom.

Her eyes followed his. "Oh yeah. I should change." She basked in his quiet uncertainty until she couldn't hold back the laugh. "At ease, Gunny. Abs showed me how to do it myself ."

He scowled at her teasing. "I can take all of this away," he warned, circling his finger around the chair.

"You said you bought the chair for me."

He opened his mouth to object, then remembered their conversation on the couch. "I didn't think you were listenin'."

"Let that be a lesson to you," she said. "I'm always listenin'." She winked at her own imitation. Grabbing a pillow he had left on the bed, she pressed it into his chest. "I'm also very observant- you didn't use a pillow."

"You needed 'em," he said, like the choice was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, now I don't. Please, take it."

The scent of her wafted from the pillow to his nose as he curled his arm around it.

"Alright," he said. "You sure you're gonna to be okay?"

"Would you help me if I wasn't?"

He knew she was playfully trying to get a rise out of him. _Two can play at that game._ Reaching out, he casually undid the first button on her shirt.

"If you asked."

His unexpected claim didn't surprise her as much as it might have three years ago, before she had learned to recognize the thread that joined them, the flame that burned between them. Still, they had both done such a good job of ignoring it, smothering it, denying it, that bringing it to the surface- willingly!- almost felt surreal. She glanced down at the fingers that hovered over the 2nd button.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, chancing a look into stormy blue eyes that looked back with a feeling she recognized in her own. The moment stretched taut between them until she broke the gaze, and the pillow suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room.

"Good." Brushing a finger across her chin, he nodded. "Good."

x...x

A/N- First, thanks to all who are reading, following and reviewing. It keeps me motivated! Second, I've set this as if Twilight didn't end the way it did and both Kate and Gibbs are more their 1st season characters. The writers seemed to forget Kate was an intelligent woman and that Gibbs could smile. I like the idea of imagining what their relationship could have become had they stayed on the season 1 path!


	6. Chapter 6

x...x

When she woke to find him gone, she tried not to wonder why she felt so empty, and when he returned smelling of sawdust and soap, she definitely tried not to wonder why she felt so full.

"Hope you don't mind I took your key," he said, stepping into the apartment, "didn't wanna wake ya." He walked into the kitchen, placing two finished doors on the floor. "Should've stained 'em, but we can always do that later."

She looked at the cabinet doors and shook her head in amazement. "You did these? This morning?" They were nearly exact replicas of the old ones, including the decorative design cut into the corners. Only the wood's newness gave it away.

"All of these should be replaced," he said, waving a finger at the cabinets. "Whoever did these didn't know his ass from his awl." He clearly took it as a personal offense. "But with you rentin', pretty sure you don't wanna put in the effort."

Running a finger along the top of the smooth wood, she marveled at the ease he created such craftsmanship.

"I'd love to learn," she said, surprising both herself and him.

"Really?"

"Yeah." She looked at him and smiled. "I just think it must be so satisfying to take a piece of wood and turn it into something beautiful."

He snorted. "It's just a cupboard door, Kate."

She was having none of his deflection. "Well I think they're beautiful."

He chuckled at her seriousness. "Okay. Why don't I put these beauties up an' we'll see how they look?" Pretending not to notice her scowl at his teasing, he asked, "You got a screwdriver?"

"Phillips, Robertson or slot?"

His eyes widened. "Got any other surprises, Secret Service?"

Barely stopping her lips from twitching, she deadpanned, "I have all kinds of hidden talents, Special Agent." When the amusement was too much to bear, she laughed. "Three older brothers. If you ever need your air filter switched or your oil changed, let me know." She purposely added a seductive undertone just to see him smile.

"Duly noted. Now, hand me a Phillips."

x...x

Time seemed to both stretch between them and pass too quickly, and she was getting too used to enjoying the former that she hated the latter. She wasn't sure when she got so accustomed to his presence in her space. Not her work space; she was more than familiar with his solid frame leaning into her, his calloused hands gripping her waist in the face of danger, his sly smile hiding something more than a quiet acknowledgement of a job well done. But she had always compartmentalized those moments under 'work'- if for no other reason than for her own emotional protection. To think of those as anything other than 'work' meant thinking they could mean 'more'. And 'more' only lead to 'pipedream'. And 'pipedream' only lead to, well, she hadn't cried over a man in almost a decade, and 'pipedream' only invited tears.

But the last few days were different, in a way she couldn't file away. The solid frame became 'comfort', the touch became 'care' and the sly smile- she grinned to herself. No, that still hid something under an upturned corner of his mouth. Her head said things were different; her heart dared to think these things were always this way.

"I should get goin'," he said.

Her reverie broken, she frowned, looking up from the book she was only pretending to read. "It's only 4 o'clock. And I thought you were staying?"

From his end of the couch, folded his paper and dropped it on the coffee table. "If I spend another night on this couch, I'll have to marry it."

Despite her disappointment, she laughed at the quip. "That good, huh?"

"Soft and invitin' in all the right places."

"I'll keep that in mind." She added 'playful banter' to her list of 'when did _that_ happen?' "You sure you have to go?" If she sounded a bit needy, she didn't care.

It helped that he seemed reluctant to go. "JAG wants all the Bosman paperwork Monday morning, and I gotta get a change of clothes before then. Not sure I could show up to work in this." He looked down at his faded jeans and Marine Corps shirt that was at least 10 years old and easily becoming Kate's favourite look.

Before she could stop her mouth, she said, "I wish you would."

He looked up at her, then down to his shirt again. "This does it for you, huh?"

The 'playful' part of their banter barrelled right into something that made her face go red. "I… uh…"

 _Cannot admit the only thing that would look better than you in that shirt would be you out of it._ The internal thought only made her face burn more. Though he couldn't read her mind- she hoped!- he must have seen something in her eyes because he inhaled sharply.

"I _really_ should go." Maybe he _could_ read her mind, because when she opened her mouth to apologize, he laid his fingers on her arm and said, "Don't. Just… tryin' to figure out what's goin' on here, Kate."

She wasn't going to pretend she didn't understand what he meant when she had been spending all morning thinking the same.

Though she didn't need him to clarify, he seemed compelled to explain. "I've gone from asshole to carpenter in a matter of days."

"Those don't have to be mutually exclusive."

His eyebrows rose to his hairline, and his mouth silently opened and closed at her playful jab. Finally, he found words that satisfied him. "Asshole carpenter, huh? Been called worse, I guess."

"Well, you do have three ex-wives."

Though they were still playing around the issue, she found his near-admission of something going on beyond the professional oddly liberating. Knowing she wasn't the only one wondering what the hell was going on alleviated her uncertainty and made the possibility of things between them less daunting. To hear that the otherwise unflappable Leroy Jethro Gibbs was standing on shifting sands gave her a kind of comfort. Not that she'd ever tell him that.

His eyes narrowed at her quip, but she was having none of it. Her full laugh told him so. Shaking his head, he stood, though her fingers caught his before he had a chance to pull away.

Lifting her eyes, she said, "You don't have to go."

"I know." He repeated his earlier refrain, "But I should." Glancing around the apartment as if the right words were written on the walls, he said, "You don't need me around here, gettin' in your way."

She took the excuse for what it was, but didn't contradict him. Maybe she did need some time alone, without his scent and his smile to cloud the issue. Still, she squeezed his fingers for a moment longer.

"8:30, Monday?" she asked.

"Make it 8. We might swing by your coffee shop." The way his nose wrinkled at the word 'coffee' said all he thought about the place. He lingered at her knee, looking down into her upturned face. He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, as if he didn't want the other to let go.

"I have a lot of carpentry jobs I could give you," she offered.

She never quite knew what would make him smile, but she wished she could get him to do it more, because when he smiled- really, genuinely smiled- there was nothing warmer, nothing more inviting. Nothing more wicked. Her fingers released his before they got any grand ideas of tugging him back to the couch. His thumb brushed across the pads of his fingertips, like he was trying to rub her touch into his skin.

His smile dropped into a grin, but the light never left his eyes. "Make a list."

 _Definitely wicked,_ she thought.

"Call me if you need anythin'." It was both a question and a command, and she nodded her reply. "Okay. An' lock the door behind me."

Rolling her eyes, she stood and with more animation than she felt, she shooed him out the door. He was just about to go down the stairs when she called out.

"Gibbs?" His blue eyes turned back to her and whatever she might have planned in her brain got caught in her throat. "Thanks," was all she was able to muster. "For everything."

x...x

His own couch must have known of his betrayal, because whatever softness it might have had now turned hard in retaliation.

 _Or maybe it was never about the couch._

The light from the TV flickered across his features in the dark room, where it was nothing but him, a half-eaten pizza, and the sports highlights. He tried to shift into a better position, but the cushions flatly refused to accommodate him. The cellphone on the table mocked him with its promise of a softer couch, better food, and Kate.

 _Hell,_ he thought, _don't even need the first two._

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make sense of things. Rule 12 was clearly losing ground to whatever was building between them, and his admission that he didn't know what it was only made the distance between his rule and his heart even wider.

 _His admission. That he said out loud. When the hell did Leroy Jethro Gibbs ever talk about emotions?_

He snorted and wished he had brought the bourbon up from the basement. God knew he could use a stiff drink, something closer to liquid gold than the melted caramel of her eyes.

"'Melted caramel'?" he chastised himself out loud. "Jesus." Pushing himself from the couch that made no effort to keep him, he clicked off the TV and made his way to the basement door and down the stairs.

x...x

The next morning, while somewhere across town a man was complaining about a basement sofa being no more comfortable than the one he had in the living room, Kate pressed the recliner's side button and waited for it to return to its upright position. When Gibbs had first brought it, she questioned exactly how she was supposed to sleep in a chair, but it only took one night of shoulder pain relief to make her a believer. He hadn't told her how he knew, and she reminded herself to get the story out of him. Padding to the bathroom, she did her business, deftly washed her hand, and examined her reflection in the mirror. Angling her head to the right, then up and down, she was pleased to see the minor abrasions along her left cheek were at various stages of healing and some were already fading. Considering she had been in a car accident less than a week ago, she thought she looked pretty good.

Changing clothes was a task that was both frustrating and amusing, and she couldn't help but groan and laugh in equal measure. But tenacity paid off and she managed to get everything on, though the bra almost made her throw in the towel, until she imagined showing up for Mass without one. If she thought the scandal wouldn't have been church fodder for years and somehow gotten back to her mother, she might have tried it. She snorted at the image and the reactions.

Changing also served a second purpose- it gave her an idea of how long it took and how much time would be needed Monday morning. Though Gibbs had softened in ways she had yet to figure out, she was fairly certain his requirements for military punctuality wasn't one of them. Satisfied with the time and her appearance, she went into the living room and waited for her taxi.

x...x

The solace that his boat so often brought him seemed in short supply, and it showed in the work, in the uneven bevels and the shoddy sanding. He had given up an hour ago and decided to immerse himself in the only other thing that took his mind off things better than his boat- his work. He hadn't lied to Kate when he told her the JAG wanted the Bosman paperwork first thing in the morning, though as was his nature, the bulk of it had already been done (mostly by DiNozzo), and all he had to do was cross the 't's and dot the 'i's. Because it had been Tony who put the file together, Gibbs had to take certain aspects of it on faith, that the facts put down on paper were the facts as they occurred. Everything Bosman confessed to in the interrogation as well as everything before his arrest needed to be checked and checked again. Not that he didn't trust Tony; he wouldn't have him on the team if that were the case. But it didn't hurt to make sure. He ignored the voice in his head that taunted him for the flimsy ruse and reached for his cell phone.

x...x

The first time, he thought she might have been in the shower. The second time, in the bathroom. The third time, having a nap. But when he still hadn't gotten an answer after the fourth call, he began to frown. It wasn't like her to not pick up, and without conceit, he knew she was least likely to do it with him. With a hand in his cropped hair and worried feet, he paced twice between his door and his couch, until he realized the couch, once a counter argument to the door (stay vs. go) had traitorously teamed up with the latter.

 _Go._

He jammed the speed dial one more time.

'Pick up the damn phone, Kate.'

x...x

He tried to keep his mind on the road and not on why he was on it in the first place. Agents missed calls all the time. _Not her._ Anything could have happened. _That's not as comforting as it should be._ He had all but told her he needed space to figure out what was happening between them, and he didn't last the morning. _Like there's anything to figure out._ He pulled into her parking lot and clenched his jaw before angrily twisting the ignition off.

"Fuck it," he said.

x...x

Her lock was harder to pick than he would have thought, and the part of him that wasn't frustrated by the fact was happy in its security. _Like people are pickin' her lock every damn day, Gunny._ The small tools were barely back in their case before he turned the knob and pushed into the apartment. His first steps were towards the bedroom, figuring he'd save himself a lot of embarrassment if he found her sleeping. Quietly, he nudged the door open, and it yawned into the empty room. The only good news it offered was the chair, which had clearly been used. She was sleeping in it. But where was she?

The next stop was the bathroom, but the open door answered the question by elimination rather than conclusion. The apartment was struggling for size in comparison to his house, but he called out anyway.

"Kate!"

He knew it was fruitless. Standing at the end of her hall, with the bedroom and bathroom behind him, he could see everything else in her open concept living space, with the kitchen to his right and the living room to his left. Wherever she was, she wasn't in the apartment. His gut clenched and the sour bile he had tasted the night DiNozzo dropped the news in the bullpen like a napalm bomb to his heart returned. His eyes went everywhere, as if she would materialize from a corner of the room he'd scanned ten times already. His body went to the couch and he dropped on it without conscious thought. Blindly, he reached out for the pillow she had left on one end and brought it to his chest. He thought of phoning Abby, her emergency contact ( _That's gonna change_ , he thought), but he took some comfort in knowing if something had happened, she would've called him. He'd give her another 15 minutes before- _Before what?_ Before he did something. Anything.

The clock in her kitchen ticked with taunting certainty.

x...x

With 3 minutes to spare, the click of her lock pulled the knife out of his heart, and the relief he tried to ignore manifested itself into anger.

"Where the hell were you?"

The smile that had unabashedly spread across her face at seeing him immediately retreated. "What?"

"Where were you?" he repeated, slower but with the same icy coolness. "I tried callin'. Five times."

Any joy she might have had evaporated, to be replaced with a coolness of her own. "Father McCrimmon doesn't like it when we have our phones on during Mass. Makes the sermon kinda hard. And confession is just a bitch." There was no amusement in her voice.

The truth made his head jerk back like he had been slapped. "You were at Mass." It wasn't a question; he said it out loud more for his idiot self than for her.

"Yep." She tossed her keys into a nearby bowl, then turned. "How did you get in?" When his reply was a guilty shrug, she brought her hand to her forehead. "You broke into my apartment."

"There was no 'breaking'," he weakly defended.

She nodded. "Right. You pick locked into my apartment. My bad."

He watched her slip off her jacket, fighting the impulse to help, unsure if he had the right. The fact she could make him second guess himself brought the edge back to his voice.

"How did you get to Mass?"

Kicking off her shoes and padding into the kitchen, she threw a caustic reply over her shoulder. "They have these great things called 'taxis'. Maybe you've heard about them?"

"Don't be smart, Kate," he snapped back. "What part of 'call me if you need anything' didn't you get?"

She scooped out the coffee, berating herself for how easily it became habit to add extra for him. "You couldn't seem to get out of here fast enough," she replied. "Didn't think you'd be in a hurry to come back."

The words weren't entirely true, but she needed to hold on to the sting. With her back to him, she waited for the hurt to be returned, but when the silence drew out long between them, she faced him. The hurt _was_ returned, just not in words. His eyes, so normally blue with humour or intensity or anger had dulled in what she dared to say was sadness. His gaze was directed at the floor and his thumb rubbed over an eyebrow. The fact he couldn't seem to find the words squeezed her heart. When he whispered her name, it only hurt more.

Tentatively, she took two steps towards him. Bending her head to catch his gaze, she touched his arm. "Gibbs." She didn't know where to begin. "The accident… something's happened. God knows I don't have a clue. But you can't keep doing this. Every time I'm out of your sight, you can't think 'I should be there'. You can't protect me from life, Gibbs."

If someone described her reaction as 'surprised', she'd accuse them of being unimaginative. 'Surprised' barely covered her reaction when she felt his mouth on hers.

"Mmmmhh!" she gasped as his lips pushed hers open and his tongue laid claim. His hands went to her head where fingers threaded through her hair to hold her firm. The move forced her chin up for him to plunder her mouth with abandon. Her grip on his arm tightened, and it seemed to spur him on, for what began as passion spilling over grew into something that almost frightened her. It was as if he couldn't get enough- taste enough, claim enough, close enough. Her hand slipped up to his wrist and gently pried his hand from her hair. Breaking the kiss, she left smaller ones in a path to his ear as she drew his fingers to the hollow of her throat. Pressing them against her pulse, she whispered, "I'm right here. I'm here. I'm alive and I'm here. I'm here with you." The small mantra broke through his haze, and when he tried to pull away, she held his hand firm.

"Okay?" she asked, her breath soft and warm against his cheek.

His nod held all he couldn't say.

"Okay," she repeated, finally making some space between them. As if they hadn't just obliterated a line ('crossed' seemed as woefully inaccurate as 'surprised'), she gestured to the kitchen with a jut of her chin. "Coffee's ready."

He shook his head at how easily she brought the sunlight back into his heart. "I'll be the judge of that."

Winking, she pulled down some mugs. "What did you call me for?"

He frowned until her words made sense. "Oh. Some bullshit excuse about the Bosman paperwork." His blatant honesty made her laugh in a way he wanted to replicate over and over.

"Mmmm," she hummed. "Well, considering I'd bet a month's salary Tony did all the work, it might not be so bullshit."

He wanted to wrap his arms around her but settled for standing beside her. "No," he deadpanned, "it was complete bullshit."

Sliding his mug towards him, she pondered the possibilities. "Well, now that you're here… I started that carpentry list."

His scowl only served to draw out the laugh again, which, all things considered, he figured wasn't a bad thing.

x...x


	7. Chapter 7

x...x

When he left that afternoon, it was with a different uncertainty than what it was when he had left the day before- where yesterday's departure was full of 'what is this?', today's leaving was all about 'what do we do now?'. The kiss had happened, forever altering the road ahead of them, but the question of where it was taking them now was left unasked. Not that either seemed to mind. They spent the afternoon on the couch, talking about work, joking about the chair, watching TV, while subconsciously inching closer and closer together, both shifting slightly to face each other, both with hands that surreptitiously wandered towards each other until they lightly clasped together. It was only when Gibbs' cell rang that they pulled apart.

"Tony?" she asked when Gibbs' closed the connection.

'Yep."

"Checking to make sure he hadn't screwed anything up on the report."

Admiring her ability to read the situation, he nodded. "I should go. I really do hafta bring that file in tomorrow."

She pulled at his shirt. "So you're _not_ going to wear this." It was a statement and a pout that made him chuckle.

He kissed her temple, his warm lips pressing against her skin longer than necessary. She bunched up her now favourite shirt in her fist and held him close. With a boldness that shouldn't have surprised him, she trailed her mouth up his jaw to his ear.

"That's a shame." She let him contemplate all that might imply before letting go of the fabric and smoothing it down. "I'll see you in the morning."

He covered his swirling emotions with a gruff, "Oh-eight-hundred." He stood and tried to look stern.

As he suspected but would never admit, she could see right through him. "Sir, yes, sir." His eyes narrowed at the address, which only encouraged her mischief. "Gunny."

If his eyes narrowed any more, they would have closed. But he wasn't above a bit of mischief of his own. Offering a casual salute he'd never show outside of the two of them, he smirked, "See you then. Captain." The way the sly title made her eyes darkened and her mouth drop into a perfect 'Oh' was his just reward.

x...x

As she expected, the knock came at precisely 8 am. Already anticipating his punctuality and having practiced her routine the previous day, she opened the door before the clock hit 8:01. His mild surprise was met with a satisfied grin and a playful question disguised as an honest query.

"You were there 5 minutes early and just waited until 8, didn't you?"

"Nope," he replied, entering the apartment. "Six minutes."

"I knew it."

He touched her injured arm and took in her appearance. "Everything okay this morning?"

"Haven't quite mastered the buttons, but pulling a shirt over my head isn't happening any time soon."

His eyes scanned over her outfit, unabashedly lingering in some places. "They're crooked."

Her eyes followed his to her breasts and she cocked an eyebrow. She would have bet money she caught a glimpse of pink touching the tips of his ears.

"The buttons, smart-ass." He must have felt the heat in his ears because he reached up to scratch one.

Her amusement turned to dismay. "Dammit!" she said. "It took me 20 minutes to get them all done!"

Without a word, and perhaps without conscious thought, he began undoing the buttons. She would've asked him what he was doing, if she hadn't been fully aware of the answer, and if she hadn't fully lost the ability to speak. Big hands nimbly took care of the small clasps with a dexterity that she found both surprising and unexpectedly arousing. The small lick of her lips briefly caught his attention before it returned to the task that seemed to be taking an eternity to complete. Not that she was complaining. The last button undone, he began doing them up again, this time matching them with their respective counterparts. He began from the bottom, an odd quirk she assumed was a Gibbsian trait. Though he didn't touch her, she could feel the heat radiate off his hands, and when he paused at the button that would cover the valley between her breasts, she couldn't help but minutely lean forward. His stifled moan was almost her undoing. She bit the inside of her cheek to silence her own response. The air charged electric between them until he found a reserve of strength she didn't have to step back. The only lingering sign that anything had happened was the slight flaring of his nostrils as he tried to take in the oxygen his racing heart required. She looked down at his handiwork, if only to give her eyes an excuse to not get caught in his simmering blues.

"You forgot one."

The diversion brought both of them back to solid ground. His eyes flicked down to her observation. The button between her breasts remained undone, offering the fleeting promise of white lace. He shook his head.

"Nope."

The confidence made her burst out laughing. "Fine. But if I have to put up with Tony leering at me all day, I can't be held responsible for what happens."

"I always thought you could kick his ass with one hand tied behind your back. Don't think the shoulder will be much of a problem."

"Was that a compliment?" Her voice was full of wonder.

"Ya wanna keep goin', or do ya wanna get the stuff you claim is coffee?"

She pretended to consider the options. "Coffee. I can do the rest at work."

Ignoring his eye roll, she grabbed her coat by the door, but it was immediately taken out of her hand. Wordlessly, he held it open for her to slide her good arm into. He went to reach for her purse but she stopped him.

"Just grab my badge and wallet," she told him. "I don't want to drag everything around."

Hesitantly, he opened the purse like he was expecting to find evidence in a murder investigation.

"You're not telling me you've never looked in a woman's purse before," she grinned, realizing his discomfort.

"Oh, I've looked through plenty," he replied. "It's why I'm tryin' to make this quick." To his surprise, the purse was remarkably organized and free of clutter. The investigator side of him took inventory: slim wallet, notebook, pen, gum, badge. He assumed the feminine products were in the discrete zip pocket. His eyebrows told her of his surprise.

"That's my work purse," she explained. "You won't have that look when you have to go through my personal one." He grimaced and she put the wallet and badge in her coat pocket. "C'mon, Marine. Every minute we're here is one minute more you're away from your coffee."

"Then double-time, Agent Todd," he commanded, opening the door and extending his hand towards the hall. "Marine's gettin' grumpy."

She made sure he saw her blatantly open her mouth to speak, then purposely close it, as if reconsidering her words. She didn't stick around long enough to see his expression. She didn't have to.

x...x

Heads turned when the elevator door opened and Kate and Gibbs stepped out. She wasn't surprised that Tony was the first to stand and meet them halfway. He went to hug her until realizing the problem, so he stepped to her good side and gave her a squeeze.

With gentle pressure against her temple, he whispered, "Good to have you back, Kate." Then, in typical Tony way, he looked over to McGee. "Better get in on this while you can, Probie. She'll never be more defenseless."

"Still got one good arm, Tony," she warned, sharing a look with Gibbs that was a warm reminder of their earlier conversation.

"Pffft," Tony scoffed, not entirely convincingly. He waved over McGee.

The younger man stood and walked over to the trio, his awkwardness apparent to all. Uncertain of what to do and what was appropriate- particularly in front of his boss- he held out a hand.

"Jesus, McAwkward," Tony grumbled.

Taking pity on the young agent, she avoided his handshake and slipped an arm around his shoulder. "Good to see you, Tim."

Tension lifted, he returned the hug then stepped back. "Good to see you, too, Kate."

Gibbs' first words were, "Eyes up, McGee," which got Kate a wink from Tony and McGee an elbow to the gut.

"Perv," Tony accused.

"You busy, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss. Just killing ti-" Realizing his misstep, he backtracked. "I mean, yeah, super busy. Really busy. Unbeliev-"

Gibbs planted a file into the bumbling agent's chest. "The Bosman case. JAG's all over the Director's ass to have it in today. Think you can get it from here to there before lunch, considerin' you're so busy?"

"On it, Boss."

"Wait. Some ground rules regarding Agent Todd. First, desk duty only. We get called out to the field, she stays. Doesn't mean she's not gonna do anything." He said it as much for her as the other agents. "It means we'll have another set of experienced eyes to track down leads and follow up on the evidence. Second, she's on a flexible schedule. If it gets too painful, or she gets tired, or she's just sick of seein' your face, she goes home, no questions asked. Got it?"

Both men nodded.

"Anything you need, just ask," Tim promised.

"I can give you a lift home whenever you want, Kate," DiNozzo offered.

"Won't be necessary," was all Gibbs said before starting towards his desk.

Tony tried to catch Kate's eye, but she was looking everywhere but at him. With a grin as wide as his face, he put his hand over his heart and said, "We'll always have the garage, Kate."

Gibbs turned, and his inquisitive scowl was enough to light a fire under Tony who darted up the stairs.

x...x


	8. Chapter 8

No one seemed to notice that Kate and Gibbs arrived and left together every day, and if they did, no one was going to be the first one to say, though Tony's sly wink to Kate whenever Gibbs wasn't looking spoke volumes. She was confined to desk duty for the first three weeks, as per the doctor's- and a certain ex-Marine's- orders. When she speculated that she might try to push the recovery timeline up by a week, Gibbs' gruff, "The only thing you'll be pushing is a pen, Agent Todd," ended that idea. Three weeks to the day, the cast had been removed, and despite the expected stiffness, the doctor was pleased by the progress. When he said she was a week ahead of schedule, she barely refrained from sticking her tongue out at Gibbs. Now, a week into a gruelling physio therapy session, she suspected he had gotten his revenge by intimidating her therapist. The ache in her shoulder was sure of it.

She had collapsed on his couch after a particularly hard session, and though her eyes were closed, a combination of sawdust and a sixth sense brought a smile to her face. The warm pack placed gently on her shoulder brought a sigh.

"Told ya you'd get the heating pad eventually."

She was surprised he remembered. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he'd given her an ice pack despite her protests.

"You did," she agreed, reaching out blindly to tug him to the couch.

Things had changed since they had kissed. There was a new tenderness to him, one he was careful to conceal at work, but one he seemed more and more comfortable revealing at home.

Home.

That had changed, too. Once the cast had come off, there was a silent agreement to make his house their final stop at the end of the day. It was made under the guise of Gibbs "taking possession of my chair" and her insistence that he tended to his boat. She knew it was more than a carpentry project to him; it was his escape and his solace, and she knew how important those things were for a man who bottled up emotion and lost himself in work.

And yet, in some ways, things had stayed exactly the same. While his tenderness was new, nothing had progressed beyond lingering touches and soft kisses. He still slept on the damn couch. The fact she recognized it as part of his chivalry- he would never think of doing something that might hurt her- didn't assuage the knot of frustration that seemed to hang around her heart like a yoke. It was that frustration that lead her downstairs to the boat.

Three days prior, he had left with DiNozzo for the U.S.S Integrity, on the trail of a killer on board. His return was scheduled a day and a half ago, but weather prevented the sub from resurfacing, and the turmoil on the ocean only magnified the turmoil in Kate. She wasn't concerned about his safety; she knew it was nothing. Cases rarely followed the timeline the agents drew up. Delays happened for a variety of reasons, and more often than not, it was a simple inconvenience. Professionally, it was easy to dismiss. Personally, however… It was something as innocuous as looking in the mirror that morning that made her realize it.

 _I miss him._

She had touched her lips to bring back the memory of his, and she said it again, aloud.

"I miss him."

Which is how, despite the small protest from her shoulder, she had taken to sleeping on the worn couch in the cool basement, wrapped in one of his many USMC sweaters and his blanket from the living room. Which was why she was currently working on a large patch of the boat, finding the minor burrs and bumps and sanding them smooth. It didn't take her long to understand the soothing appeal, and the thought that it got her closer to Gibbs in some way, even when he wasn't there, brought her a comfort she didn't expect.

She was so lulled by the sound and safety that she didn't hear the presence until it hit the squeaky wooden stair, fourth from the top. Spinning with the gun that was always nearby, centre mass was in her sights before she realized the intruder's identity.

"Jesus, Gibbs!" she exclaimed, dropping the weapon to her side. "I _am_ destined to shoot you."

It took her a minute to realize his muteness wasn't from the surprise of her drawing on him, but because of an intense scrutiny. She looked down at her sweatpants and sock feet, felt suddenly vulnerable in her white tank top and ponytail. She knew she was covered in sawdust and wood shavings, but before she could excuse her appearance, she saw something in his eyes. A sly dawning lit her face.

Recalling another time, she smirked, "This does it for you, huh?"

He seemed to remember it, too, if the grin he was fighting was anything to go by. Rather than reply, he walked over to the boat and began running his fingers along the side. His tactile exploration spread from bow to stern, each inch as smooth as the next.

"You did all this," he marvelled.

Ignoring the flush his praise gave her, she shrugged. "I'm working my way up to cabinets."

His attention returned to her, but in a different way than it had when he first came down the steps. There was a kind of turmoil in his eyes that turned the calming sky blue into a rolling sea. The change was so striking that she couldn't help but reach out to touch his arm.

"Everything okay?"

His mouth opened, but it was his nod that answered for him. Her frown drew out actual words. "I… I gotta head out this weekend."

Her frown remained. "'Head out'? Did the case go bad?"

"No," he said. "No. It's just... somethin' I gotta take care of."

"Personal."

"Yeah."

She pressed her lips together and nodded. She knew he wasn't a communicative man on the best of days, but she had hoped these last four weeks- however anyone wanted to define them- had pried open the steel door that guarded his emotions. _I guess I was wrong._

"Okay."

There was obviously something in her voice that hinted at her private thought, because now he was the one to reach for her. "Kate."

Pasting a smile on her face, she blew a strand of hair from her forehead and said, "No, really, Gibbs. It's fine. I should go take a shower. Pretty sure my shoulder wants to have a word with me."

She put down the sander but kept the gun and walked up the stairs. When the door clicked shut at the top, his fingers brushed across the wood again, but it was a poor substitute for soft skin and gentle eyes.

x...x

There was an awkwardness that hung over the next day, despite Kate deciding to not let his silence bother her. The long hot shower the night before had given her time to step back from the situation and view it pragmatically. She had initially taken his comments- short as they were- personally. With more thought, she admitted she had no idea the source of his newfound shift and maybe the best thing would to simply be there for him. Though she felt good about the decision, it seemed it only tightened the security around his thoughts and words, and it was a struggle to get to the end of the day without her breaking.

When he pulled into his driveway but didn't get out, she said, "You're leaving right now."

"Yeah." He thumbed towards the trunk. "Go bag's in the back."

She looked down at her hands then out the window. Anywhere but at him. "I should've gone home." Despite her avoidance of his eyes, the hurt across his face so immediate, she caught it in her peripheral. She knew it was her use of the word 'home' when it didn't apply to his house, but what else was she to think? His hurt only made her angrier. "Have a good trip, Gibbs. Wherever that is." Her fingers were on the door handle when she heard his seatbelt unclick and felt his hand curl up around her cheek.

"Kate."

He could say so much by just saying her name. In the years she had known him, she had heard him say it with concern, amusement, warning, praise, and anger. But she had never heard him say it this way- a sort of longing, a kind of desperation. She turned her head to reply but the words were lost against his lips. This, too, was different. Though she didn't have the experience of his kiss the way she did with the sound of him saying her name, she knew enough to know he was trying to tell her something he didn't have the words to say. Her brain struggled to decipher the meaning made difficult by the sensations his mouth was sending through her body. Pushing aside thought, her fingers moved from the door to his jaw, his late day stubble prickling under her touch. Her seatbelt restricted her movement, but she turned into him just the same. This wasn't the fearful desperation of their first kiss, nor the shy comfort of their goodnight kisses; there was a kind of finality to this one. She hoped it was a signal for new beginnings. She didn't want to think about what it meant if it wasn't. All she could do was pour herself into the kiss and hope what she had to give was enough.

He was the first to pull away, though he didn't go far. Resting his forehead against hers, she felt his broken breath warm her cheek. After an eternity, he reached up to take her hand and kissed it almost gallantly before putting it on her lap and unclicking her seatbelt.

"I'll be back sometime Sunday night," he said, suddenly all business again, as if the last few minutes hadn't happened.

She waited for more, but when none was coming, she sighed and opened the door. "Be safe, Gibbs." She had no idea if he watched her go into the house because she never looked back.

x..x


End file.
